Dark Frame

by Iris Blaire

  Someone knocks on my door and I nearly fall off my bed in surprise. When I open it, Miles is standing there with a stack of books and a huge grin on his face.

  “Dude, it’s like, midnight.”

  “Tell me you weren’t going to do homework tonight and I’ll leave.” He glances over my shoulder and at my bed, which is covered in notes.

  I roll my eyes and walk back to my bed. He follows me in and makes himself comfortable.

  “And what if I wanted to study alone tonight?” I say, pointing at my yoga pants.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Are those supposed to scare me off or something?”

  “Perhaps.”

  He falls back onto my bed and scoots against the wall. In his hand is a Margaret Atwood novel. “You’re going to have to try a little harder. Maybe not wear anything.” His eyes get wide. “I’m terrified of naked women.”

  I cock my head as I sit back on the bed. “I didn’t know that you batted for the other team.”

  “I was propositioning you. I didn’t realize that my acting was so good.”

  “I know. And don’t kid yourself, your acting is terrible.”

  His eyes sparkle. He scoots his foot—his bare foot—over until it brushes against mine. This is nice—this innocuous flirting. This getting-to-know-a-guy without him seeing me naked or dry-humping me first.

  About fifteen minutes into our silent studying, there’s another knock on the door.

  Miles looks at me and raises his hands into the air. “I didn’t send out party invitations, promise.”

  I get up and creep to the door, cracking it open. My eyes look up, meeting fierce blue ones.

  My heart stops.

  Dallas’s hand is pressed to the doorframe, and he leans against it. I study him. I guess I didn’t realize earlier that he flew to Boston in his professional teaching attire, for some reason. His shirt matches his eyes, the top button popped to reveal just enough skin to make my mouth water. It’s a little wrinkled—I wonder if that was from my doing when he had me up against the wall. He even sports the slacks and dress shoes.

  “Why are you dressed like that?”

  His eyebrows furrow. I’m assuming that wasn’t the first question he was expecting out of my mouth. “I told my Costa Rica team I was heading to Boston on business. I wanted to dress the part.”

  “Why are you here?” Now, that’s the question I know he was expecting.

  “Because A.J. called me and asked nicely.”

  “I mean, why are you here, at my room, right now? It’s one in the morning. How did you even get my dorm number?”

  “Britain.”

  “Fucking Britain.”

  The corners of his mouth perk up. His eyes haven’t left mine once, not even to glance down at my ratty sweats.

  “Can I come in?” he asks.

  I bite my lip. Time to get down to the nitty gritty. “I’m kind of busy,” I say, letting the door fall open. Dallas’s eyes immediately dart to Miles. I see the shift in them, even though he’s trying to keep cool.

  Miles doesn’t blink. He grins and waves his hand. “Hi, there.”

  “We’re studying,” I tell Dallas. “How about we talk in the hallway?”

  I don’t wait for Dallas’s response. Instead, I slip out of the room and shut the door behind me, leaving Miles alone.

  I cross my arms and lean against the wall. It’s my posture to stay closed-off to him, to let him know that coming to my dorm in the middle of the night doesn’t affect me one bit.

  Not one bit.

  “So you’re here just because A.J. called you and asked nicely?” I press sternly, my eyes locked on his. I’m trying to keep my concentration away from how beautiful they are, and how much I miss him.

  He runs his fingers through his dark hair and leans against the opposite wall, right next to Miles’s dorm. “Not just because he asked nicely. Because he’s paying me—a lot. Just like you.”

  My face falls. I wasn’t expecting that. “You’re here because he bribed you?”

  “You’re here because he bribed you.”

  “Actually, I go to school here, Dallas.” Now I’m mad, and I can’t even place my finger on the reason why. I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “What do you want?”

  “I—I just wanted to talk to you. To make things—okay between us.”

  Things won’t be okay between us. It’s not even that we had a nasty breakup. But the most polite breakup in the world still stings like a bitch. Everyone knows that.

  “They’re okay.”

  “Promise?”

  I shrug. “That doesn’t mean I want to shoot with you.”

  His face grows somber. “I get that. But if it comes down to it—″

  “It won’t.”

  “But if it does, I’m not going to try and… I don’t know… seduce you or anything.”

  “Oh, thanks, I was worried,” I say dryly, even though I can’t lie to myself. I’m a bit disappointed.

  What the hell is wrong with you, Evan?

  “I mean it. Everything on set is just working.”

  I open my mouth to try and come up with some snappy, smart thing to say, but it just hangs open dumbly. I shut it and say, “Okay.”

  He nods. “Cool, so I’ll see you tomorrow? And tell your boyfriend I’m sorry I interrupted you guys.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Please, I’ve been here for two weeks. He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Whatever,” Dallas says. “I know how those studying situations work out with you, remember?”

  He tries to play off his comment coolly, like he’s brushing off our whole relationship to try and prove to me he’s over me.

  But Dallas is rarely a mystery to me, or so I’d like to think. And I’d also like to think that I can hear the note of dejection in his voice.

  ^^^^^

  “Who was that?” asks Miles when I sit back down.

  There’s no point in hiding it. “My ex,” I say with indifference.

  “I see,” he says flatly. “What did he want?”

  “He was stopping by to give me a work update.”

  “You work with him?”

  “I do.”

  “And he couldn’t just call you?”

  “What is this, twenty questions?”

  Without looking up from Atwood, he raises his eyebrow. “It’s a game I’m really good at.”

  I grin, stretching my foot forward to brush against his again.

  ^^^^^

  I’ve never been uncomfortable in a photo shoot before.

  Not even when the set is busy. Not even last semester when Dallas and I had our naughty school girl theme we had to stick to.

  This feeling is entirely new to me.

  Maybe that’s because I know he is standing right outside the bright lighting in the dark, leaning against the stone wall with his arms crossed, watching me.

  Watching us.

  That might be another reason for me being uncomfortable. Britain stuck me with two guys—Jaime and Adam, of all people—for this erotic dungeon shoot.

  Oh yeah—we’re also in a dungeon. Talk about cold and creepy and so not sexy.

  The dungeon is beneath the first floor next to a small theatre used for who-knows-what kind of performances. Neither are open during tourist season. They stay locked up, and for good reason. They’re creepy as fuck. Historians say that the Vedas hosted mass BDSM parties in the dungeon and theatre. There are straps and chains and boards and weird, terrifying-looking devices everywhere.

  “I really hope all of this has been sanitized,” I mutter.

  Behind me, Jaime chuckles.

  The three of us are on a stone bench. I have an iron chain wrapped around me, erotically covering my most erogenous parts. Jaime’s sitting behind me and Adam in front. Jaime’s torso is pressed against my spine and my legs are wrapped around Adam, like we’re about to take part in a three-way.

  In any other situation, I’d probably be able to have a good time with this—especially with gu
ys like Adam and Jaime. We’d whisper some jokes back and forth to each other, snort and chuckle and piss Britain off a bit, and then have a great shoot.

  But all models who don’t have other important obligations (which is pretty much just me) are required to sit and watch all of the other photo shoots, like they’ll learn from them or something. Dallas is already made up with fake cuts and bruises for his sexy bondage shoot with Ella, sitting against the wall of the dungeon with the other models.

  Watching us.

  “You look in pain, Rylan,” Britain says as she takes a few test shots.

  “I thought that was the whole point of the shoot.”

  “You don’t look like you’re in sexy pain. You look like you’re in constipated pain.”

  Adam busts up laughing right in my face and I smack him on the cheek.

  “This is so stupid,” I mutter, trying to blow off my embarrassment. “Where the hell did Britain even get the idea for a shoot like this?”

  I watch as Adam shoots Jaime a wicked look. Something happened—something they’re not telling me.

  “Ugh, this fucking lens. Something is wrong with this lens.” Britain steps off of the box and hurries to her camera bag in the corner of the dungeon.

  “Tell me,” I say to Adam with as much threat as I can muster.

  “Let’s just say…” I can tell he’s thinking of his words carefully. “We inspired Britain. During the little game we played last night.”

  Jaime’s lips brush against my ear. “Both of us.”

  My mouth drops. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Adam says, even though his amused smile continues to toy with his lips. “We only made out with her a little bit.”

  “Simultaneously,” Jaime adds.

  “Holy fuck!” I hiss.

  “Calm down, calm down, she’ll know we told you,” Adam says when Britain returns.

  “Okay.” Britain stands on her box and adjusts the new lens. “Can we get through this quickly without me incessantly barking at the three of you?”

  If Britain can handle two guys at once, then I can too.

  Even if Dallas is watching me.

  I don’t know what goes through me. Jaime tugs on the chain wrapped around me, forcing my back to arch, and suddenly I feel vibrant and hypersexual.

  I lean my head back against Jaime’s chest, squeezing my thighs against Adam’s hips. “You aren’t half-bad looking, you know?”

  “Are you coming onto me, Evan Cosette?” Adam asks in wicked amusement.

  “Bite me,” I tell him.

  He scoots backward enough to lie on his stomach in front of me, spreads my legs, and bites me hard right above my hip bone.

  The cry that escapes my mouth surprises even myself. I arch back into Jaime and shut my eyes, hearing Britain exclaim, “Perfect!”

  Warmth swells in the apex of my thighs, and I know I’m getting most turned on by Dallas watching, praying he’s growing jealous.

  Just like I had to be jealous with Kayden hanging all over him in the rain.

  After our shoot, Britain uses the dungeon for Ella’s and Dallas’s set. As they get into position, Dallas’s eyes continue to dart in my direction. Britain hums and haws over how she wants the two of them to pose, but Dallas isn’t paying attention.

  I guess it doesn’t help that I’m standing just outside the light without wearing my robe, dressed only in my favorite pair of light blue panties that I often wear around set. I have my arms crossed over my bare chest.

  Watching him.

  Britain wants Ella to go all dominatrix on his ass. Dallas lies stomach down on the ground, wearing nothing other than the leather straps fastened around his body. Ella wears a pair of daring stilettos and black silk panties.

  When the shoot starts, I drop my arms and place them on my hips.

  Dallas’s eyes flit across my body. Ella steps onto Dallas’s back in a stiletto-clad shoe and his eyes shut in pain.

  “Hurt him just a little, Ella. Sorry, Dallas. I hope you don’t mind.”

  An AA prop person runs forward and hands Ella a whip. As Ella giggles, all the models who are watching groan or laugh or release a mixture of the two.

  “S’fine,” Dallas grunts.

  Ella has fun with the shoot. She leans over Dallas and smacks him hard in the ass. I watch as his perfect thigh muscles clench every time, suddenly wishing I was Ella for my sense of pride, and also because whipping Dallas sounds like the best high I’d get all week.

  Ella rubs her hand over his ass and down his thigh. Envy grows in me until Dallas opens his eyes and finds mine again, and I clench my legs together.

  And then, I swear that he mouths my name, right before Ella’s whip lands with a crack on him again.

  Britain

  “They aren’t your best shots,” I tell Evan. “But they’re decent, and sexy.”

  We sit on my bed in my lavish suite as I look through the photos. She’s still only dressed in her silk robe. She’s silent as I pick a few of my favorites to send to A.J.

  Finally, she says, “So Jaime and Adam told me how you were inspired for today’s shoot.”

  I stop breathing, looking up at her. They did not. “What did they say?”

  She cocks a deviant eyebrow. “How someone enjoyed having two mouths on her a little too much.”

  I feel my face flush. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  Evan rolls her eyes. “Please. You should be proud of yourself—having two gorgeous male models who want to please you without a camera on them.”

  “It wasn’t even… having both of them.” I shudder at the thought of that amazing kiss.

  Evan raises her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “It’s Jaime, isn’t it?”

  I groan and drop the iPad, falling back onto the bed. “What is wrong with me?”

  She giggles. “Well, whatever he did to you, it got you into a super-kinky think mode, which is what A.J. is looking for, correct?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “My suggestion?” she says as I sit up. “Keep it up with him.”

  The thought of living out my teenage fantasies once again sparks a crazy electric feeling right at my core, and I nearly moan from the thought. “It’s not that simple.”

  “I’m not saying that you need to fall in love with the guy,” Evan says, examining her cuticles nonchalantly. “All I’m saying is that you should use him. It’s the least he can do to pay you back after all of those years of teasing and torment.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “An apology,” I muse.

  The best apology of all.

  ^^^^^

  I’m not expecting A.J. to call me.

  “Not good enough,” he tells me. “Not at all.”

  “What?”

  “Honestly, Britain, if you refuse to listen to me, then I’m going to have to pull the whole project from you.”

  What the fuck? What happened to the artistic license that he promised me? “It was a last minute idea. I thought it would be sexy.”

  “Sexy? It was practically cute!” A.J. cries. “Listen, Britain. I like you. I gave you freedom to do what you want because I thought that you’d like to push yourself.”

  “I am—″

  “You aren’t being edgy enough. My team wants to take EPE to the next level of sexy, but we can’t if you aren’t willing to listen to me. Give me edgy. Give me sex.”

  “I—alright.”

  “And for the love of God, put Willow and Whitley back together, would you?”

  He hangs up on me.

  I hold my phone in front of my face and annunciate as slowly as possible, “Fuck. You.”

  ^^^^^

  I haven’t told Evan yet that she and Dallas have to pose together. I can’t. I need some time to think about what I’m going to tell my models what A.J. expects from the magazine now. I don’t even know how to execute it without everyone fucking each other.

  The Veda staff has prepared several platters that they change throughout the
day for picking at. Breads, deli meat, nuts, fruit, cheeses. I make myself a sandwich and head back to my room to think more, and when I do, there’s a box of tampons with a note attached to it.

  “What the hell,” I murmur, scooping up the note.

  I remembered this one last night. Real jackass move on my part.

  I laugh into the back of my hand.

  I have no sexy innuendo to tack onto the end of this one. Even though vaginas are still awesome.

  If you corner me alone tonight, I’ll give you a clue as to why I did it.

  Stepping into my room, I eye the pair of black lace panties scrunched up on the end table.

  Oh. I’ll find him tonight, alright.

  ^^^^^

  It’s not too hard to follow Jaime back to his room when he heads in after dinner and drinks.

  I’m not wearing anything too special for him. Just my best jeans and a black, low-cut tank top. I switched my glasses out for contacts for the first time on this trip, my hair swept to the side in a braid.

  Hopefully, it’s enough to do the trick.

  He opens the door a few seconds after I knock, already dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. I can see the ripples of his abs through the fabric.

  He looks surprised. “Wow. I really wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

  “I’m full of surprises,” I say, sliding between him and the door and strutting into the room.

  He scratches his head. “So I guess I owe you a clue now as to why I strung tampons outside your bedroom window.”

  I cross my arms and lean back against the bedroom desk. “I believe you do,” I say, keeping a straight face.

  He bites down on his full bottom lip, the lip I was biting on yesterday.

  “And please, don’t tell me it’s because you had a crush on me.”

  He grins. “It’s not that simple. You see, most teenage boys are total dicks.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “And don’t understand the female body at all.”

  “I’m aware of that too.”

  “You were thirteen, Britain. You were… pretty, and growing up. All of those boys you brought over to your house to go swimming you flirted like hell with.”